


The Courtship of Erestor

by GlowingMechanicalHeart



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Secret Admirer, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29116110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlowingMechanicalHeart/pseuds/GlowingMechanicalHeart
Summary: “I won’t make you wait any longer, darling Erestor.”
Relationships: Ecthelion of the Fountain/Erestor, Erestor & Idril Celebrindal, Erestor & Penlod
Kudos: 6





	The Courtship of Erestor

“Erestor, just because your mother gave you that name,” Idril gave his arm a friendly squeeze, a mock stern tone to her voice. “Doesn’t mean you’ll be alone forever. Have some faith.”

Erestor sighed, he and Idril had been friends since childhood, their mothers being friends had facilitated such thing. “And yet, I remain alone.”

“Perhaps you just haven’t met the one just yet.” Idril looked at him, a serious look to her face now. “Or maybe you have and you both are being stubborn and afraid.”

Erestor did his best not to wince, because Idril had unknowingly struck true. There was someone, someone he fancied – no, loved. Because he knew himself well enough to know that it was love. But he wasn’t quite ready to admit it out loud, at least he wasn’t ready to speak his name to Idril. He knew her enough to know that she’ll do her best and meddle. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that, because Idril could be quite persistent and, he knew that she would go out of her way to make sure that the object of his affections was around in oh-so convenient places wherever he would be. “No one has tried to court me either,” he pointed out.

Idril looked at him, with those bright blue eyes of her that almost seemed to see to his very soul. Then, after a few moments of silence, she smiled softly. “They are fools then. Fools for not seeing beyond that sharp tongue of yours. You’re smart and cunning, clever and resourceful, kind and compassionate, and you have one of the noblest hearts I know. You’re quite handsome too, so take heart dear Erestor, I know, that someone out there, will look at you and fall so completely in love, they will refuse to let you go. You won’t be alone forever.”

Idril’s words gave Erestor hope, and he knew that he was such a fortunate elf for having her as his friend. “If Princess Idril says so, then, it must be true,” he spoke solemnly. Then, softly, he said, “It would be nice not being alone anymore.”

Idril kissed his cheek, “You won’t be so for long, so my heart says.”

Erestor simply squeezed her hand, they were sitting under the shade of a tree in the Palace gardens for lunch, Idril had already asked a servant to prepared everything, choosing to drag Erestor outside herself, else, he would find an excuse and continue working.

So Erestor never did see the shadow that lurked, hidden behind a near fountain. Nor did he notice, the eyes that were glued to his face, nor did he hear the whisper that left the figure as Erestor and Idril continued their meal. “I won’t make you wait any longer, darling Erestor.”

***  
  
Two days after his talk with Idril, Erestor found himself locked away in his office. The lunch bell had rung and he simply couldn’t leave, the pile of paperwork that laid in front of him demanded his undivided attention, so with a rueful gesture, he kept on working.

Erestor would’ve continued on undisturbed and ignored the hunger he felt, until there was a knock on his door. “Come,” he spoke softly, not even bothering to look up.

“My lord Erestor,” it was a woman’s voice. At that, Erestor looked up to see one of the kitchen maids carrying a basket. “I was asked to deliver this to you.” 

“Who?” Erestor asked as he inspected the basket. Inside it, he found a small bottle of wine, a sandwich that was made of cold meat, soft cheese and spinach, alongside a bowl of wild berries. There was a note too, it simply read, ‘You work too hard’.

The maid shook her head, “I do not know milord, I was simply asked by Lothwen, she had it ready for you, said that it was a request. I know nothing more.”

Erestor nodded slowly, “My thanks than, dear lady. And give my thanks to our dear Lothwen.”

The maid bowed and left, leaving Erestor deep in thought. Lothwen, the head cook, was someone who took her duties very seriously, and while it would be possible that she would’ve set aside some food for him (as she had done so before), the fact that he had been told it was a request threw him off. He crossed Idril, Turgon and Penlod immediately, they would simply send for him or come to his office and made him join them at the dinner table.

In the end, Erestor shrugged and tucked in. The meat was tender, the bread had mustard and the cheese was one of his favorites. He swallowed down his food with the wine, thankful for that small thoughtful act.

***

  
Two days later, Erestor found something strange in his office. He had arrived on time, as it was his wont, only to find a box of chocolate truffles in his desk. He approached the box wearily, almost as if it were a snake that was poised to attack. Atop the box, there was a note, ‘Something sweet to start your day, enjoy Erestor’.

Erestor inspected the truffles and bit into one, they were made of dark, almost bitter chocolate – his favorite, his mind supplied – and were laced with fine brandy. He didn’t know what to make of it, instead, he finished the truffle he had been eating and putting the rest aside to take home, he began to work. 

His mind however, didn’t stopped and it made Erestor realize that, whomever it had gifted the truffles, clearly knew that he favored both dark chocolate and brandy. He shook his head, he could ponder on the mystery later, right now, he had work to do.

  
Several days latter, Erestor arrived at his office to find a lovely flower bouquet. His heart raced, and he raised a shaky hand to brush against the flower petals. They were red roses. And he, ever the scholar and ever the closet romantic, knew what that meant: love. The red rose always meant that. He began to look for a note and he found it tied around the stems (which had been free of thorns):

_‘Have some beautiful blossoms, to match your beauty’._

Erestor released the breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Who would give him flowers? He took the bouquet and lifted them to his nose, he allowed the scent of the roses to wash over his senses. He couldn’t help but to smile. No matter what, those flowers had given him something: hope. Perhaps, there was someone out there for him.

But he wouldn’t lie to himself, Erestor was afraid that whomever did this, would change his or her mind and forget everything and leave him to deal with both disappointment and to nurse a broken heart. Still, he cherished the flowers.

***

  
Much to Erestor’s surprise, the gifts didn’t stop after the flowers. They simply varied, one day, he arrived to find a book of love poetry in his desk, clearly hand written and intended for him (or at least the dedication claimed), another was a journal, another came in a fine bottle of brandy, one memorable day, he was gifted a mithril ring that bore tiny opals, a case of his favorite sweet wine had been delivered to his home once. Foodstuff also came, during one memorable occasion, during a dinner he had been served strawberry ice cream, something that had been the envy of many. Gifts of books and other small little trinkets came too, and through it all, there was a note and on some days, a poem too.

Erestor cherished the poetry, it was clear that whomever it was that it had written it, was doing so from their hearts, for it was loving and kind, some, even spoke of him in such a way that made him flush with pleasure. He had never been so flattered as to when he read a poem by his admirer, he’d never received poetry that was inspired by him.

But Erestor did not have a clue as to whom it was sending him the gifts. He had tried speaking with Lothwen, as she could know who it was, but she had simply smiled and refused to say anything. Idril was another dead end, she had given him a look that clearly spoke about knowing who it was, but she simply smiled and said, “You’ll find soon enough dear Erestor.”

And so, Erestor simply wondered who it could be. He would often see an elf and wonder, ‘is this him? Is this her?’ and have no answer. The servants didn’t know either, some had claimed that the gifts that had arrived to his office, had simply arrived late at night by messenger and they had simply delivered them to him.

His brother was no help either, Penlod, had witnessed it most of it. And simply smiled upon him, placed a strong hand on his shoulder and said, “You, my darling brother are being courted. Enjoy it.”

And yes, Erestor was enjoying it. But he would enjoy it even more if he knew whom it was. What if it was someone he didn’t like? But he dismissed the idea, the poetry was enough to convince him of that. For the honest and eager beauty of them could not lie. Whomever it was, clearly knew him well enough and loved him.

Because the poems and dedications of the gifts, had started at some point being signed with ‘with all my love’. Love, the one thing he ached for and now, it seemed that it was so near his grasp. Now, he only wished his admirer would step forward and give him a name.

Oh there was someone Erestor dearly wanted it to be, he had been in love with Ecthelion, Lord of the Fountain for quite a while, but he had never mustered the courage to say so. Ecthelion shone brightly, he was such a respected elf and so sought after, that he was sadly aware that he – plain Erestor – would not have a chance with him. There wasn’t anything that Erestor didn’t like about Ecthelion, his kind and gentle heart, his fierceness as a warrior, that beautiful voice that was made to be raised in song, those deep gray-green eyes, those proud and noble features. 

But now, Erestor wondered if he could let Ecthelion go and enjoy love with someone who clearly thought the world of him. Someone who claimed to love him, someone who was going out of their way to make sure Erestor knew it.

Perhaps he could. 

***  
Erestor’s next gift, came just in time for Idril’s begetting day celebration. The robes arrived as per usual, a messenger bearing it and a note, ‘Would you honor me by wearing it? I think you would look breathtaking. Someone who loves you.’

When Erestor opened the package, he found a ruby red robe with silver embroidery. It was a made with fine velvet and silk, and it was so unlike anything he usually wore. He tended to limit himself to black, dark green, burgundy and dark blue. Only on especial occasions did he wore the colors of his house. But this shade of red? It was very unlike him, but he appreciated the gesture.

“That is beautiful brother,” Penlod’s voice broke the silence in the room. “A new gift?”

“Yes,” he said and offered the robe for Penlod’s inspection. “I’m just… overwhelmed, I suppose.”

Penlod observed the robe, then set it aside carefully and went to his brother. “This is a very fine garment, it would suit you well. Your admirer clearly wants you in fine things.”

Erestor couldn’t help but to blush. “I just wish I knew who it was.”

“Is there someone you want it to be?” Penlod’s voice was soft and tender, as he watched as his brother stared at the gift.

“There is,” Erestor said just as softly. “But, it would not be right to get my hopes dashed.”

Penlod said nothing for a while, he knew that his brother had a tender heart, no matter what facade he gave the world, there was a loving and gentle heart that feared to be broken. “Then, I hope that your admirer is someone you may grow to love if you so wish it.”

“Thank you brother.”

***

  
Idril’s begetting day arrives swiftly and finds Erestor at a crossroads. He stares at the red robe his admirer sent and wonders if he should wear it. Penlod had ordered a new set in several shades of gray and silver. But in the end, he opts for the red ones. Wears black trousers and the silver tunic from Pelond’s set, dons the robes over it and takes a deep breath, finishes it with boots.

Perhaps his admirer will out themselves if they see him wear them. Erestor’s most desperate desire still leans towards Ecthelion, but his heart is open to the possibility of someone else. He sits in front of his vanity and braids his hair, sets some diamonds and rubies throughout it. When he was finally ready, he looked at himself in the mirror and, for one second, he almost didn’t recognized himself. The elf that stares back from his mirror is… quite the sight.

Erestor allows himself a tiny smile, his admirer had chosen well in the color and cut. It’s a bold look that he finds suits him well. He leaves his chamber before doubts can catch up with him and make him fake a headache.

He finds Penlod in the drawing room, glass of wine in his hand. His brother is dressed in deep gray and silver. Penlod takes one look at him and smiles over the brim of his glass. “You are quite the sight brother, are you ready?”

“Thank you brother,” Erestor tries to suppress the blush that comes, fails. “I am, let us be off, it wouldn’t do to be late.”

***

  
Idril’s begetting day feast was a lively one, Erestor found himself enjoying it. He was usually not one for loud parties, preferring far more intimate gatherings, but it could not be said that King Turgon did not know how to throw a feast.

Idril dragged him to dance on several occasions and, much to his surprise, Erestor found himself being on the receiving end of more requests. It was the robes, he decided, he wasn’t usually so bold in his dressing. He danced here and there, chatted with his fellow elves and found himself in lively discussion with Glorfindel about a new strain of roses he was trying to grow. 

And much to his absolute delight and surprise, Ecthelion had complimented him on his robes. “They suit you well,” he’d said. They had shared a dance too, in which Erestor did his best to calm his nerves as he was swept to the dance floor at the arm of the Lord of the Fountain.

But the night went on, and there was no sign of his admirer. On impulse, Erestor made his way to the Palace garden, Turgon had several flowering plants that bloomed at night and the fragrance that they gave, alongside the crisp air and other greenery, calmed him down. He lost track of the time he spent near the roses, when a voice – one that he knew very well – broke the silence.

“I am glad to see that my gift suited you.”

Erestor froze. His mind was spinning, that sweet, melodic voice that he loved so much. Carefully, he turned. And Ecthelion stood some paces away from him. Dressed in silver brocade robes with accents in blue, circlet of his station upon his brow, hair braided with blue ribbons. His face was soft and tender, a small smile upon his face and his eyes, they were warm and – it took his breath away – full of love.

“It was you?” It was all Erestor managed to say. So much for being hailed as eloquent. But then again, diplomacy and such others hardly mattered (or prepared you) in matters of the heart.

“Yes.” Comes the soft reply. And before Erestor can ask more questions, Ecthelion recites one of the poems that are on the book he received, his voice is full of emotion as he does and Erestor find that his own vision blurs with unshed tears.

Erestor blinks the tears away, lets his heart soar with joy, the Valar it seem, have seen fit to grant him his greatest desire. “I love you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. He extends a shaky hand, Ecthelion doesn’t hesitate and takes it. “I didn’t dare hope… I wanted to be you, but I was afraid.”

Ecthelion pulls him forward, gently wrapping his arms around him. “Well, it is me meleth. And I love you too.”

Erestor all but melt into Ecthelion’s strong arms, closes his eyes and allows his senses to fill with the clean and crisp scent that always clings to Ecthelion. He hugs him back. When he finally regains his bearings, he says, “What a way to sweep me off my feet, Lord of the Fountain.”

Ecthelion chuckles and kisses his hair. “My dearest, cleverest Erestor, your courtship is barely beginning.” Another kiss to his hair. “I am glad you wore the robes, one day soon, you’ll wear the colors of my house.”

Erestor gapes, then shakes his head with a smile, “Quite certain of that, Ecthelion?”

Ecthelion laughs, his laughter like music. “Just a very fervent hope my dear.” And he places his hands around Erestor’s face and places a gentle kiss upon his lips.

Erestor all but melts into the kiss, pulls Ecthelion back for another, the feast forgotten. Right now, all that it mattered was this moment, the joy he felt, the love returned and the promise of a future together.

What neither of them see, is a smiling Idril looking at them from one of the windows. She turns away, leaving the lovers to their romance, but she whispers. “About time.”


End file.
